Imogen. So sick I am not, yet I am not well;
But not so citizen a wanton as
2325To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me;
Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom
Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me
Cannot amend me; society is no comfort
To one not sociable: I am not very sick,
2330Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here:
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die,
Stealing so poorly.

Guiderius. I love thee; I have spoke it
How much the quantity, the weight as much,
2335As I do love my father.

Arviragus. If it be sin to say so, I yoke me
In my good brother's fault: I know not why
I love this youth; and I have heard you say,
2340Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door,
And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say
'My father, not this youth.'

Guiderius. But his neat cookery! he cut our roots
2380In characters,
And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick
And he her dieter.

Arviragus. Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
2385Was that it was, for not being such a smile;
The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly
From so divine a temple, to commix
With winds that sailors rail at.

Guiderius. I do note
2390That grief and patience, rooted in him both,
Mingle their spurs together.

Belarius. 'Those runagates!'
Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis
Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush.
I saw him not these many years, and yet
I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence!
2405

Guiderius. He is but one: you and my brother search
What companies are near: pray you, away;
Let me alone with him.

[Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS]

Cloten. Soft! What are you
2410That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers?
I have heard of such. What slave art thou?

Guiderius. A thing
More slavish did I ne'er than answering
A slave without a knock.
2415

Guiderius. To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I
An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?
Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not
2420My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art,
Why I should yield to thee?

Belarius. I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him,
But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour
Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice,
2460And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute
'Twas very Cloten.

Arviragus. In this place we left them:
I wish my brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell.
2465

Belarius. Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment
Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother.

[Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head]

Guiderius. This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse;
There was no money in't: not Hercules
Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne
My head as I do his.
2475

Guiderius. I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head,
Son to the queen, after his own report;
Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore
With his own single hand he'ld take us in
2480Displace our heads where—thank the gods!—they grow,
And set them on Lud's-town.

Guiderius. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose,
But that he swore to take, our lives? The law
2485Protects not us: then why should we be tender
To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us,
Play judge and executioner all himself,
For we do fear the law? What company
Discover you abroad?
2490

Belarius. No single soul
Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason
He must have some attendants. Though his humour
Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that
From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not
2495Absolute madness could so far have raved
To bring him here alone; although perhaps
It may be heard at court that such as we
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time
May make some stronger head; the which he hearing—
2500As it is like him—might break out, and swear
He'ld fetch us in; yet is't not probable
To come alone, either he so undertaking,
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear,
If we do fear this body hath a tail
2505More perilous than the head.

Belarius. I had no mind
2510To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness
Did make my way long forth.

Guiderius. With his own sword,
Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en
His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek
2515Behind our rock; and let it to the sea,
And tell the fishes he's the queen's son, Cloten:
That's all I reck.

Arviragus. Would I had done't
So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore,
I love thee brotherly, but envy much
2525Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would revenges,
That possible strength might meet, would seek us through
And put us to our answer.

Belarius. Well, 'tis done:
We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger
2530Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock;
You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay
Till hasty Polydote return, and bring him
To dinner presently.

Arviragus. Poor sick Fidele!
2535I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour
I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood,
And praise myself for charity.

[Exit]

Belarius. O thou goddess,
2540Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
As zephyrs blowing below the violet,
Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind,
2545That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder
That an invisible instinct should frame them
To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught,
Civility not seen from other, valour
2550That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange
What Cloten's being here to us portends,
Or what his death will bring us.

[Re-enter GUIDERIUS]

Guiderius. Where's my brother?
I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream,
In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage
For his return.

[Solemn music]

Belarius. My ingenious instrument!
Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark!

Guiderius. What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother
it did not speak before. All solemn things
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter?
Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
Is jollity for apes and grief for boys.
2570Is Cadwal mad?

Belarius. Look, here he comes,
And brings the dire occasion in his arms
Of what we blame him for.
[Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead,]2575bearing her in his arms]

Arviragus. The bird is dead
That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch,
2580Than have seen this.

Guiderius. O sweetest, fairest lily!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well
As when thou grew'st thyself.

Belarius. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten
2635Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys;
And though he came our enemy, remember
He was paid for that: though mean and
mighty, rotting
Together, have one dust, yet reverence,
2640That angel of the world, doth make distinction
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.

Guiderius. Pray You, fetch him hither.
2645Thersites' body is as good as Ajax',
When neither are alive.

Arviragus. Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
2665To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Belarius. Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more:
The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night
Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces.
2685You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so
These herblets shall, which we upon you strew.
Come on, away: apart upon our knees.
The ground that gave them first has them again:
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
2690

[Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]

Imogen. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is
the way?—
I thank you.—By yond bush?—Pray, how far thither?
'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?—
2695I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow!—O gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the body of CLOTEN]These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream;
2700For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
2705I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt.
2710A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face
Murder in heaven?—How!—'Tis gone. Pisanio,
2715All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read
Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio
2720Hath with his forged letters,—damn'd Pisanio—
From this most bravest vessel of the world
Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me!
where's that?
2725Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
2730And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home:
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O!
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seem to those
2735Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
[Falls on the body][Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers,]and a Soothsayer]

Roman Captain. To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia,
2740After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending
You here at Milford-Haven with your ships:
They are in readiness.

Caius Lucius. This forwardness
Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers
Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir,
What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose?
2755

Soothsayer. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision—
I fast and pray'd for their intelligence—thus:
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends—
2760Unless my sins abuse my divination—
Success to the Roman host.

Caius Lucius. Dream often so,
And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here
Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime
2765It was a worthy building. How! a page!
Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather;
For nature doth abhor to make his bed
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.
Let's see the boy's face.
2770

Caius Lucius. He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one,
Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems
They crave to be demanded. Who is this
Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he
2775That, otherwise than noble nature did,
Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it?
What art thou?

Imogen. I am nothing: or if not,
2780Nothing to be were better. This was my master,
A very valiant Briton and a good,
That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas!
There is no more such masters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,
2785Try many, all good, serve truly, never
Find such another master.

Caius Lucius. 'Lack, good youth!
Thou movest no less with thy complaining than
Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend.
2790

Imogen. Richard du Champ.
[Aside]If I do lie and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope
They'll pardon it.—Say you, sir?
2795

Caius Lucius. Thou dost approve thyself the very same:
Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name.
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
2800Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure,
No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters,
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner
Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me.

Imogen. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods,
2805I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep
As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave,
And on it said a century of prayers,
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh;
2810And leaving so his service, follow you,
So please you entertain me.

Caius Lucius. Ay, good youth!
And rather father thee than master thee.
My friends,
2815The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can,
And make him with our pikes and partisans
A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd
By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd
2820As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes
Some falls are means the happier to arise.